


Unaware I'm tearing you asunder (Oh, there is thunder in our hearts)

by Lothiriel84



Series: A is for aromantic [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aromantic, Asexual Character, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One-Sided Attraction, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 03:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20923337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: And if I only could, I'd make a deal with GodAnd I'd get Him to swap our places





	Unaware I'm tearing you asunder (Oh, there is thunder in our hearts)

He takes longer than strictly necessary to arrange the flowers in the vase he’s materialised for the purpose – and it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the gesture, he truly does, it’s just that he’s painfully aware of the _implications_, and, well.

(Heliotrope, that’s for devotion. Primroses, eternal love._ Oh, my dear boy, I know I’m being unfair, and you must understand I’m ever so sorry; six thousand years is a very long time, even for two supernatural beings such as you and I._)

“They’re beautiful, Crowley,” he manages eventually, his pained smile somewhere between a plea and an apology. “Thank you so much.”

“You don’t have to lie on my account, Angel,” Crowley enunciates, flatly, hands deep in his pockets. “I just thought – never mind. Just chuck them in the bin, will you?”

He’s halfway through the door when Aziraphale catches up with him, fingers closing around his wrist; and it’s not so much the way Crowley wrenches his arm free that shatters his heart, as it is the anguished look on his face as he does so.

“My dear,” he starts, only to think better of it. “Crowley. It’s not how you think it is, you have to believe me.”

“Right. Got it. However you want to have it, Angel. I’ll be seeing you around.”

_I know angels were never meant to experience romantic love, the way humans do. Nor were demons, for that matter – and yet, here we are._

_Is that the punishment You were planning to dish out for us? Free from Heaven and Hell at last, yet forever separated by this imbalance of feelings?_

_If I were to repent, crawl back on my hands and knees and beg for forgiveness, would You at least spare him? Let him be happy, the way I cannot make him?_

_Are You even listening? Or have I been talking to the wind this whole time?_

The bookshop lies silent and dim all around him, dust gathering slowly to mark the gentle working of entropy and time. He shuts his book, takes off his glasses, and decides to call it a night.

He’s not entirely sure how it happens. One moment, they’re laughing at something inconsequential – and it shouldn’t hurt this much, the practiced ease with which Crowley’s acting as if nothing happened, but it does, even as he searches his mind for a suitable quip, anything to pretend they’re back to normal – the next, his fingers are digging into his best friend’s shoulders, and it’s a good thing that they have no real need for air, because he’s fairly sure he wouldn’t remember how to get any into his lungs right now.

_Oh, dear Lord, is this what kissing feels like? This blazing fire, this searing heat consuming you from the inside? Put your hands on me, my dearest, lay your body next to mine. Let these human vessels taste the tortuous rapture of carnal delights, of you and I, joined as one. Let me crawl inside you, never to leave again._

Hands skim over warm flesh, inching closer to their coveted prize. Underneath him, Crowley tenses, shudders, and the delicious, tingling haze of pleasure Aziraphale had been swimming through evaporates instantly.

“My dear boy,” he pleads, a stab of white hot guilt slicing through his gut. “I shouldn’t have assumed – I’m terribly sorry.”

“’s not your fault. I love you, it shouldn’t be that difficult –”

“No!” he shakes his head, horrified at the notion that Crowley would have pushed himself through the whole ordeal, just for his sake. “Not like this. Never like this.”

“Right, I – I’ll just see myself out, shall I?”

_Don’t go_, every fibre of his being screams, wordlessly, as he watches another piece of his heart walk out of the door and leave.

They get there, in the end. It takes time, and quite a lot more effort than either of them would have anticipated, but it’s worth every agonised second of it.

Communication is the key, that’s what they learn along the way; it’s never been their strong suit, not even remotely, but as with most things, all it takes is practice, and the unshakable conviction that what they have is too precious to risk ruining over something as trivial as a misunderstanding.

“Hmm, looks like you’re having fun, Angel.” He can hear the smile in Crowley’s voice, can feel the warmth of his breath tickling his skin as he leans in to press another kiss at the nape of his neck.

“I am, rather,” he exhales, already lost in sensation, the soft drag of flesh on flesh, heated and ready. Still, he wills himself to stop, just for a moment, just to be sure. “If you want to take a rain check, though –”

Another kiss, this one nestled in dip between neck and shoulder. “You know I’m always in the mood for watching.”

His eyes flutter shut as he picks up his pace, his hand falling into a familiar rhythm. “Hold me?” he lets out eventually, and it’s barely a whisper, but he knows he won’t need to ask again. “If you like,” he adds, even as Crowley’s arms find their way around him, his chest a solid warmth pressed against his back.

“So demanding,” Crowley teases him, the effect quite lost as he can’t seem to stop nuzzling down the length of his neck. “Angel.”

“Ah, yes, like that – lovely.” He’s getting close now, everything going slightly fuzzy around the edges as he tingles with anticipation. “You’re so good to me, always –”

“Easy now, Angel, or I’ll have you sit through me declaring my undying love and devotion for you, again.”

“I don’t mind, I don’t – you can take me to lunch later, I will even let you buy me flowers – my dearest friend, my Crowley, oh, oh!”

He’s distantly aware of Crowley whispering something into his ear, fond and familiar and ever so dear. 

_Not so much a punishment as a gift to be treasured, then. _

_I can definitely work with that._

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley is asexual, Aziraphale is aromantic. Somehow, they make it work.


End file.
